b3g32fC^33:7, 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


# 


"  He  used  to  console  himself  by  frequenting  a  kind  of 
perpetual  club  of  the  sages,  philosophers  and  other  idle 
personages,  which  held  its  sessions  before  a  small  inn." 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


&YWASHINGTON 
IKVfNG 

ILLU5TRATEPBY 
ARTHURKACKHAM 


ysTEW-TORK-DOUGLtPAY-PAGE.&'C^ 
LoNPOA/:WlLLrA/n-HEINi:MANN 


Complete  Edition,  u,ilh  51  lllustralioni  in  Colour.  First  pub- 
lished (/5.<.  net)  September  1905. 

New  Impressions  January  1907  ;  Augus  1908:  May  1909; 
November  1910. 

Cheaper  Issue,  with  24  Illustrations  in  Colour  and  many  new 
Illustrations  in  the  T,xl.  October  1916 


Printed  in  Great  Britain 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

IN  COLOUR 

To  face  page 

'  He  used  to  console  himself  by  frequenting  a  kind  of  perpetual  club  of  the 

sages,  philosophers  and  other  idle  personages,  which   held  its  sessions 

before  a  small  inn  " Frontispiece 

Certain   biscuit-bakers   have   gone   so   far   as    to   imprint  his   likeness    on 

their  New-Year  Cakes  " x 

'  These  mountains  are  regarded  by  cJl  good  wives,  far  and  near,  as  perfect 

barometers " x 

'  Some  of  the  houses  of  the  original  settlers  " 2 

A  curtain-lecture  is  worth  all  the  sermons  in  the  world  for  teaching  the 

virtues  of  patience  and  long-suffering "      •        •        .    '    •        ■        •        •         2 

Taught  them  to  fly  kites  " 2 

His  cow  would  go  astray  or  get  among  the  cabbages  "  ....         4 

His  children  were  as  ragged  and  wild  as  if  they  belonged  to  nobody  "  •         4 

Equipped  in  a  pair  of  his  father's  cast-off  galligaskins,  which  he  had  as 

much  ado  to  hold  up  as  a  fine  lady  does  her  train  in  bad  weather  "        •         4 
So  that  he  was  fain  to  draw  off  his  forces  and  take  to  the  outside  of  the 

house — the  only  side  which,  in  truth,  belongs  to  a  henpecked  husband."       6 
A  company  of  odd-looking  persons  playing  at  ninepins  "       •        .        •        .10 

They  maintained  the  gravest  faces  " 12 

They  stared  at  him  with  such  fixed,  statue-like  gaze,  that  his  heart  turned 

within  him  and  his  knees  smote  together  " 12 

He  even  ventured  to  taste  the  beverage,  which  he  found  had  much  of 

the  flavour  of  excellent  Hollands  " 12 

Surely,"  thought  he,  "  I  have  not  slept  here  all  night.  .  .  .    Oh  !  that 

flagon  !   that  wicked  flagon  !   what  excuse  shall   I  make  to  Dame  Van 

Winkle?" 12 

V 


!^ny27H 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

To  face  page 

"  They  all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of  surprise  and  invariably  stroked 

their  chins " '^ 

"  A  troop  of  strange  children  ran  at  his  heels,  hooting  after  him  and  pointing 

at  his  grey  beard  " '4 

"  The  dogs,  too,  not  one  of  whom  he  recognised  for  an  old  acquaintance, 

barked  at  him  as  he  passed "     •                 • 14 

"  He  found  the  house  gone  to  decay.    .  .  .  '  My  very  dog,'  sighed  poor  Rip, 

'  has  forgotten  me  ' "          •                          • '  O 

"  They  crowded  round  him,  eyeing  him  from  head  to  foot  with  great  curiosity  '  1 6 

Rip's  daughter  and  grandchild 20 

"  He  preferred  making  friends  among  the  rising  generation,  with  whom  he 

soon  grew  into  great  favour  "... 24 

"  The  Kaatsberg  or  Catskill  mountains  have  always  been  a  region  full  of  fable"  26 

They  were  ruled  by  an  old  squaw  spirit 28 

IN  TEXT 

Page 

These  fairy  mountains 2 

Long  stories  of  ghosts,  witches,  and  Indians 5 

Peter  was  the  most  ancient  inhabitant  of  the  village 21 

The  Kaatskill  mountains  had  always  been  haunted  by  strange  beings        •  25 

Very  subject  to  msu^vellous  events  and  appearances 30 

When  these  clouds  broke,  woe  betide  the  valleys 33 

With  a  loud  ho  !  ho  ! 35 


VI 


By  Woden,  God  of  Saxons, 

From  whence  comes  Wensday,  that  is  Wodensday. 

Truth  is  a  thing  that  ever  I  will  keep 

Unto  thylke  day  in  which   I  creep  into 

My  sepulchre 

Cartwright. 


Vll 


INTRODUCTION 


THE  following  tale  was  found  among  the  papers  of  the 
late  Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  an  old  gentleman  of 
New  York,  who  was  very  curious  in  the  Dutch 
history  of  the  province,  and  the  manners  of  the 
descendants  from  its  primitive  settlers.  His  historical  re- 
searches, however,  did  not  lie  so  much  among  books  as 
among  men ;  for  the  former  are  lamentably  scanty  on  his 
favourite  topics  ;  whereas  he  found  the  old  burghers,  and  still 
more  their  wives,  rich  in  that  legendary  lore  so  invaluable  to 
true  history.  Whenever,  therefore,  he  happened  upon  a 
genuine  Dutch  family,  snugly  shut  up  in  its  low-roofed  farm- 
house, under  a  spreading  sycamore,  he  looked  upon  it  as  a  little 
clasped  volume  of  black-letter,  and  studied  it  with  the  zeal  of 
a  book- worm. 

The  result  of  all  these  researches  was  a  history  of  the  province 
during  the  reign  of  the  Dutch  governors,  which  he  published 
some  years  since.    There  have  been  various  opinions  as  to  the 

ix 


INTRODUCTION 


literary  character  of  his  work,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  It  is  not  a 
whit  better  than  it  should  be.  Its  chief  merit  is  its  scrupulous 
accuracy,  which  indeed  was  a  little  questioned  on  its  first  appear- 
ance, but  has  since  been  completely  established  ;  and  it  is  now 
admitted  into  all  historical  collections  as  a  book  of  unquestionable 
authority. 

The  old  gentleman  died  shortly  after  the  publication  of  his 
work  ;  and  now  that  he  is  dead  and  gone,  it  cannot  do  much 
harm  to  his  memory  to  say  that  his  time  might  have  been  much 
better  employed  in  weightier  labours.  He,  however,  was  apt  to  ride 
his  hobby  in  his  own  way ;  and  though  it  did  now  and  then  kick  up 
the  dust  a  little  in  the  eyes  of  his  neighbours,  and  grieve  the  spirit 
of  some  friends,  for  whom  he  felt  the 
truest  deference  and  affection,  yet  his 
errors  and  follies  are  remembered  "  more 
in  sorrow  than  anger,"  and  it  begins  to 
be  suspected  that  he  never  intended  to 
injure  or  offend.  But  however  his 
memory  may  be  appreciated  by  critics, 
it  is  still  held  dear  by  many  folks  whose 
good  opinion  is  well  worth  having ;  par- 
ticularly by  certain  biscuit-bakers,  who 
have  gone  so  far  as  to  Imprint  his  like- 
ness on  their  new-year  cakes  ;  and  have 
thus  given  him  a  chance  for  Immortality, 
almost  equal  to  the  being  stamped  on  a 
Waterloo  medal,  or  a  Queen  Anne's 
farthing. 


\        -01      '  \ 


"  Certain  biscuit-bakers  have  gone  so  far  as  to  imprint  his 
Hkeness  on  their  New- Year  Cakes." 


These  mountains  are  regarded  by  all  good  wives,  far  and 
near,  as  perfect  barometers." 


These  fairy  mountains. 


Some  of  the  houses  of  the  original  settlers." 


"  A  curtain-lecture  is  worth  all  the  sermons  in  the  world 
for  teaching  the  virtues  of  patience  and  long-suffering." 


"  Taught  them  to  fly  kites." 


RIP    VAN    WINKLE 

[HOEVER  has  made  a  voyage  up  the 
Hudson  must  remember  the  Kaatskili 
mountains.  They  are  a  dismembered 
branch  of  the  great  Appalachian  family, 
and  are  seen  away  to  the  west  of  the  river, 
swelling  up  to  a  noble  height,  and  lording 
it  over  the  surrounding  country.  Every 
change  of  season,  every  change  of  weather,  indeed,  every  hour 
of  the  day,  produces  some  change  in  the  magical  hues  and  shapes 
of  these  mountains,  and  they  are  regarded  by  all  the  good  wives, 
far  and  near,  as  perfect  barometers.  When  the  weather  is  fair 
and  settled,  they  are  clothed  in  blue  and  purple,  and  print  their 
bold  outlines  on  the  clear  evening  sky ;  but  sometimes,  when  the 
rest  of  the  landscape  is  cloudless,  they  will  gather  a  hood  of 
grey  vapours  about  their  summits,  which,  in  the  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun,  will  glow  and  light  up  like  a  crown  of  glory. 

At  the  foot  of  these  fairy^  mountains,  the  voyager  may  have 
descried  the  light  smoke  curling  up  from  a  village,  whose  shingle- 
roofs  gleam  among  the  trees,  just  where  the  blue  tints  of  the 
upland  melt  away  into  the  fresh  green  of  the  nearer  landscape. 
It  is  a  little  village,  of  great  antiquity,  having  been  founded 
by  some  of  the  Dutch  colonists  in  the  early  times  of  the  pro- 
vince, just  about  the  beginning  of  the  government  of  the  good 
Peter  Stuyvesant  (may  he  rest  in  peace !),  and  there  were  some 

3 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

of  the  houses  of  the  original  settlers  standing  within  a  few  years, 
built  of  small  yellow  bricks  brought  from  Holland,  having 
latticed  windows  and  gable  fronts,  surmounted  with  weathercocks. 

In  that  same  village,  and  in  one  of  these  very  houses  (which, 
to  tell  the  precise  truth,  was  sadly  time-worn  and  weather-beaten), 
there  lived,  many  years  since,  while  the  country  was  yet  a  provmce 
of  Great  Britain,  a  simple,  good-natured  fellow,  of  the  name  of 

^Rip  Van  Winkle.   He  was  a  descendant  of  the  Van  Winkles  who 

figured  so  gallantly  in  the  chivalrous  days  of  Peter  Stuyvesant, 
and  accompanied  him  to  the  siege  of  Fort  Christma.  He(inherited, 
however,  but  little  of  the  martial  character  of  his  ancestors.  I 
have  observed  that  he  was  a  simple,  good-natured  man  ;  he  was, 
moreover,  a  kind  neighbour,  and  an  obedient,  hen-pecked  husband. 
Indeed,  to  the  latter  circumstance  might  be  owing  that  meekness 
of  spirit  which  gained  him  such  universal  popularity  ;  for  those 
men  are  apt  to  be  obsequious  and  conciliating  abroad,  who 
are  under  the  discipline  of  shrews  at  home.  Their  tempers, 
doubtless,  are  rendered  pliant  and  malleable  in  the  fiery  furnace 
of  domestic  tribulation  ;  and  a  curtain-lecture  is  worth  all  the 
sermons  in  the  world  for  teaching  the  virtues  of  patience  and 
long-suffering.  A  termagant  wife  may,  therefore,  in  some  respects, 
be  considered  a  tolerable  blessing  ;  and  if  so.  Rip  Van  Winkle 
ivas  thrice  blessed. 

Certain  it  is  that  he  was  a  great  favourite  among  all  the  good 
wives  of  the  village,  who,  as  usual  with  the  amiable  sex,  took  his 
part  in  all  family  squabbles  ;  and  never  failed,  whenever  they 
talked  those  matters  over  in  their  evening  gossipings,  to  lay  all 
the  blame  on  Dame  Van  Winkle.  The  children  of  the  village,  too, 
would  shout  with  joy  whenever  he  approached.  He  assisted  at 
their  sports,  made  their  playthings,  taught  them  to  fly  kites  and 

4 


His  cow  would  go  astray  or  get  among  the  cabbages. 


"  His  children  were  as  ragged  «md  wild  as  if  they  belonged 
to  nobody." 


"  Equipped  in  a  pair  of  his  father's  cast-off  galligaskins, 
which  he  had  as  much  ado  to  hold  up  as  a  fine  lady  does  her 
train  in  bad  weather." 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


Long  stories  of  ghosts,  witches,  and  Indians. 

shoot  marbles,  and  told  them  long  stories  of  ghosts,  witches,  and 
Indians.  Whenever  he  went  dodging  about  the  village,  he  was 
surrounded  by  a  troop  of  them,  hanging  on  his  skirts,  clambering 
on  his  back,  and  playing  a  thousand  tricks  on  him  with  impunity  ; 
and  not  a  dog  would  bark  at  him  throughout  the  neighbourhood. 

The  great  error  in  Rip's  composition  was  an  insuperable  aversion 
to  all  kinds  of  profitable  labour.  ;  It  could  not  be  for  want 
of  assiduity  or  perseverance  ;  for  he  would  sit  on  a  wet  rock,  with 
a  rod  as  long  and  heavy  as  a  Tartar's  lance,  and  fish  all  day  without 
a  murmur,  even  though  he  should  not  be  encouraged  by  a  single 
nibble.  He  would  carry  a  fowling-piece  on  his  shoulder  for  hours 
together,  trudging  through  woods  and  swamps,  and  up  hill  and 
down  dale,  to  shoot  a  few  squirrels  or  wild  pigeons.  He  would 
never  refuse  to  assist  a  neighbour  even  in  the  roughest  toil,  and 
was  a  foremost  man  in  all  country  frolics  for  husking  Indian  corn, 

5 


RIP   VAN    WINKLE 

or  building  stone  fences  ;  the  women  of  the  village,  too,  used  to 
employ  him  to  run  their  errands,  and  to  do  such  little  odd  jobs 
as  their  less  obliging  husbands  would  not  do  for  them.  In  a 
word.  Rip  was  ready  to  attend  to  anybody's  business  but  his  own  ; 
but  as  to  doing  family  duty,  and  keeping  his  farm  in  order,  he  found 
it  impossible. 

In  fact,  he  declared  it  was  of  no  use  to  work  on  his  farm  ; 
it  was  the  most  pestilent  little  piece  of  ground  in  the  whole 
country  ;  everything  about  it  went  wrong,  in  spite  of  him.  His 
fences  were  continually  falling  to  pieces  ;  his  cow  would  either 
go  astray,  or  get  among  the  cabbages ;  weeds  were  sure  to 
grow  quicker  in  his  fields  than  anywhere  else  ;  the  rain  always 
made  a  point  of  setting  in  just  as  he  had  some  outdoor  work  to  do  ; 
^so  that  though  his  patrimonial  estate  had  dwindled  away  under  his 
management,  acre  by  acre,  until  there  was  little  more  left  than  a 
mere  patch  of  Indian  corn  and  potatoes,  yet  it  was  the  worst- 
conditioned  farm  in  the  neighbourhood. 

His  children,  too,  were  as  ragged  and  wild  as  if  they  belonged  to 
nobody.  His  son  Rip,  an  urchin  begotten  in  his  own  likeness, 
promised  to  inherit  the  habits,  with  the  old  clothes,  of  his  father. 
He  was  generally  seen  trooping  like  a  colt  at  his  mother's  heels, 
equipped  in  a  pair  of  his  father's  cast-off  galligaskins,  which  he 
had  much  ado  to  hold  up  with  one  hand,  as  a  fine  lady  does  her 
train  in  bad  weather. 

Rip  Van  Winkle,  however,  was  one  of  those  happy  mortals,  of 
foolish,  well-oiled  dispositions,  who  take  the  world  easy,  eat  white 
bread  or  brown,  whichever  can  be  got  with  least  thought  or 
trouble,  and  would  rather  starve  on  a  penny  than  work  for  a  pound. 
If  left  to  himself,  he  would  have  whistled  life  away  in  perfect 
contentment ;    but  his  wife  kept  continually  dinning  in  his  ears 

6 


So  that  he  was  fain  to  draw  off  his  forces  and  take  to  the 
outside  of  the  house— the  only  side  which,  in  truth,  belongs 
to  a  henpecked  husband." 


RIP   VAN    WINKLE 

abou^is  idleness,  his  carelessness,  and  the  ruin  he  was  bringing 
on  his  family.  Morning,  noon,  and  night,  her  tongue  was  in- 
cessantly going,  and  everything  he  said  or  did  was  sure  to  produce 
a  torrent  of  household  eloquence./^ Rip  had  but  one  way  of  replying 
to  all  lectures  of  the  kind,  and  that,  by  frequent  use,  had  grown 
into  a  habit.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  shook  his  head,  cast 
up  his  eyes,  but  said  nothing.^  This,  however,  always  provoked 
a  fresh  volley  from  his  wife  ;  so  that  he  was  fain  to  draw  off  his 
forces,  and  take  to  thq^ outside  of  the  house-^the  only  side  which, 
in  truth,  belongs  to  a  hen-pecked  husband. 

Rip's  sole  domestic  adherent  was  his  dog  Wolf,  who  was  as 
much  hen-pecked  as  his  master  ;  for  Dame  Van  Winkle  regarded 
them  as  companions  in  idleness,  and  even  looked  upon  Wolf  with 
an  evil  eye,  as  (the  cause  of  his  master's  going  so  often  astray^ 
True  it  is,  in  all  points  of  spirit  befitting  an  honourable  dog,  he 
was  as  courageous  an  animal  as  ever  scoured  the  woods — but 
/what  courage  can  withstand  the  evil-doing  and  all-besetting 
terrors  of  a  woman's  tongue  ?  The  moment  Wolf  entered  the 
house  his  chest  fell,  his  tail  drooped  to  the  ground  or  curled 
between  his  legs,  he  sneaked  about  with  a  gallows  air,  casting 
many  a  sidelong  glance  at  Dame  Van  Winkle,  and  at  the  least 
flourish  of  a  broomstick  or  ladle  he  would  fly  to  the  door  with 
yelping  precipitation. 

Times  grew  worse  and  worse  with  Rip  Van  Winkle  as  years  of  \ 
matrimony  rolled  on  ;   a  tart  temper  never  mellows  with  age,  and    / 
a  sharp  tongue  is  the  only  edged  tool  that  grows  keener  with  constant 
use.     For  a  long  while  he  used  to  console  himself,  when  driven\ 
from  home,  by  frequenting  a  kind  of  perpetual  club  of  the  sages, 
pixilpsophers  and  otherucHe  personages  of  the  village,  which  held 
its  sessions  on  a  bench  before  a  small  inn,  designated  by  a  rubicund 
B  1 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


portrait  of  His  Majesty  George  the  Third.  Here  they  used  to 
sit  in  the  shade  through  a  long,  lazy  summer's  day,  talkmg  list- 
lessly over  village  gossip,  or  telling  endless,  sleepy  stories  about 
nothing.  (But  it  would  have  been  worth  any  statesman's  money 
to  have  heard  the  profound  discussions  that  sometimes  took 
place,  when  by  chance  an  old  newspaper  fell  into  their  hands 
from  some  passing  traveller.  How  solemnly  they  would  listen^ 
to  the  contents,  as  drawled  out  by  Derrick  Van  Bummel,  the 
schoolmaster,  a  dapper,  learned  little  man,  who  was  not  to  be 

daunted  by  the 
most  gigantic  word 
in  the  dictionary ; 
and  how  sagely  they 
would  deliberate 
upon  public  events 
some  months  after 
they^  had  taken 
place. 

Thfe  opinions  of 
this  junto  werecom- 
pletelycontrolled  by 
(Nicholas  Vedder,,  a  patriarch  of  the  village,) and  landlord  of  the  inn, 
at  the  door  of  which  he  took  his  seat  from  morning  till  night,  just 
moving  sufficiently  to  avoid  the  sun  and  keep  in  the  shade  of  a  large 
tree  ;  so  that  the  neighbours  could  tell  the  hour  by  his  movements 
as  accurately  as  by  a  sun-dial.  It  is  true  he  was  rarely  heard  to 
speak,  but  smoked  his  pipe  incessantly.  His  adherents,  however 
(for  every  great  man  has  his  adherents),  perfectly  understood 
him,  and  knew  how  to  gather  his  opinions.^  When  anything  that 
was  read  or  related  displeased  him,  he  was  observed  to  smoke  his 
8 


RIP  VAN   WINKLE 

pipe  vehemently,  and  to  send  forth  short,  frequent,  and  angry 
putfs  ;  but  when  pleased,  he  would  inhale  the  smoke  slowly  and 
tranquilly,  and  emit  it  in  light  and  placid  clouds  ;  and  sometimes, 
taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  letting  the  fragrant  vapour 
curl  about  his  nose,  would  gravely  nod  his  head  in  token  of  perfect 
approbation. 

From  even  this  stronghold  the  unlucky  Rip  was  at  length  routed 
by  his  termagant  wife,  who  would  suddenly  break  in  upon  the 
tranquillity  of  the  assemblage  and  call  the  members  all  to 
naught ;  nor  was  that  august  personage,  Nicholas  Vedder  him- 
self, sacred  from  the  daring  tongue  of  this  terrible  virago,  who 
C  charged  him  outright  with  encouraging  her  husband  in  habits  of 
idleness) 

(Poor  Rip  was  at  last  reduced  almost  to  despair  ;  and  his  only 
alternative,  to  |  escape;  from  the  labour  of  the  farm  and  clamour 
of  his  wife,  was  to  take  gun  in  hand  and  stroll  away  into  the  woods^ 
Here  he  would  sometimes  seat  himself  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  and 
share  the  contents  of  his  wallet  with  Wolf,  with  whom  he  sym- 
pathised as  a  fellow-sufferer  in  persecution.  "  Poor  Wolf,"  he 
would  say,  **  thy  mistress  leads  thee  a  dog's  life  of  it ;  but  never 
mind,  my  lad,  whilst  I  live  thou  shalt  never  want  a  friend  to  stand 
by  thee  !  "  Wolf  would  wag  his  tail,  look  wistfully  in  his  master's 
face ;  and,  if  dogs  can  feel  pity,  I  verily  believe  he  reciprocated 
the  sentiment  with  all  his  heart. 

In  a  long  ramble  of  the  kind  on  a  fine  autumnal  day.  Rip  had 
unconsciously  scrambled  to  one  of  the  highest  parts  of  the  Kaats- 
kill  Mountains.  He  was  after  fhis  favourite  sport  of  squirrel 
shooting,'  and  the  still  solitudes  had  echoed  and  re-echoed  with 
the  reports  of  his  gun.  Panting  and  fatigued,  he  threw  himself, 
late  in  the  afternoon,  on  a  green  knoll,  covered  with  mountain 
B  2  9 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

herbage,  that  crowned  the  brow  of  a  precipice.  From  an  opening 
between  the  trees  he  could  overlook  all  the  lower  country  for  many 
a  mile  of  rich  woodland.  He  saw  at  a  distance  the  lordly  Hudson, 
far,  far  below  him,  moving  on  its  silent  but  majestic  course,  with 
the  reflection  of  a  purple  cloud,  or  the  sail  of  a  lagging  bark,  here 
and  there  sleeping  on  its  glassy  bosom,  and  at  last  losing  itself 
in  the  blue  highlands. 

On  the  other  side  he  looked  down  into  a  deep  mountain  glen, 
wild,  lonely,  and  shagged,  the  bottom  filled  with  fragments  from 
the  impending  cliffs,  and  scarcely  lighted  by  the  reflected  rays  of 
the  setting  sun.  For  some  time  Rip  lay  musing  on  this  scene  ; 
evening  was  gradually  advancing  ;  the  mountains  began  to  throw 
their  long  blue  shadows  over  the  valleys  ;  he  saw  that  it  would 
be  dark  long  before  he  could  reach  the  village,  and  he  heaved  a 
heavy  sigh  when  he  thought  of  encountering  the  terrors  of  Dame 
Van  Winkle. 

As  he  was  about  to  descend,  he  heard  a  voice  from  a  distance, 
hallooing  :  *'  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  "  He  looked 
round,  but  could  see  nothing  but  a  crow  winging  its  solitary  flight 
across  the  mountain.  He  thought  his  fancy  must  have  deceived 
him,  and  turned  again  to  descend,  when  he  heard  the  same  cry 
ring  through  the  still  evening  air  :  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  Rip  Van 
Winkle ! "  At  the  same  time  Wolf  bristled  up  his  back,  and 
giving  a  low  growl,  skulked  to  his  master's  side,  looking  fearfully 
down  into  the  glen.  Rip  now  felt  a  vague  apprehension  stealing 
over  him  ;  he  looked  anxiously  in  the  same  direction,  and  per- 
ceived a  strange  figure  slowly  toiling  up  the  rocks,  and  bending 
under  the  weight  of  something  he  carried  on  his  back.  He 
was  surprised  to  see  any  human  being  in  this  lonely  and 
unfrequented  place  ;  but  supposing  it  to  be  some  one  of  the 
10 


A  company  of  odd-looking  persons  playing  at  ninepins. 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

\  neighbourhood  In  need  of   his  assistance,  he  hastened    down   to 
yield  it. 

On  nearer  approach  he  was  still  more  surprised  at  the  singularity 
of  the  stranger's  appearance.  He  was  a  short,  square-built  old 
fellow,  with  thick  bushy  hair,  and  a  grizzled  beard.     His  dress 


was  of  the  antique  Dutch  fashion  :  a  cloth  jerkin  strapped  round 
the  waist — several  pair  of  breeches,  the  outer  one  of  ample  volume, 
decorated  with  rows  of  buttons  down  the  sides,  and  bunches  at 
the  knees.  He  bore  on  his  shoulder  a  stout  keg,  that  seemed 
full  of  liquor,  and  made  signs  for  Rip  to  approach  and  assist  him 
with  the  load.       Though  rather  shy  and  distrustful  of  his  new 

11 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


I  acquaintance,  Rip  complied  with  his  usual  alacrity  ;   and  mutually 
I  relieving  one  another,  they  clambered  up  a  narrow  gully,  appar- 
'ently  the  dry  bed  of  a  mountain  torrent.     As  they  ascended,  Rip 
every  now  and  then  heard  long,  rolling  peals,  like  distant  thunder, 
that  seemed  to  issue  out  of  a  deep  ravine,  or  rather  cleft,  between 
lofty    rocks,    toward    which    their    ragged    path    conducted.     He 
paused  for  an  mstant,  but  supposing  it  to  be  the  muttering  of  one 
of   those   transient   thunder-showers   which   often   take   place   in 
mountain   heights,    he   proceeded.     Passing   through   the   ravine, 
they  came  to   a    hollow,  like   a    small    amphitheatre,   surrounded 
by  perpendicular  precipices,  over  the  brinks  of  which  impending 
trees   shot   their    branches,    so    that    you    only   caught   glimpses 
of    the  azure   sky   and    the   bright    evening    cloud.     During  the 
whole   time   Rip    and    his     companion     had    laboured     on     in 
silence  ;    for  though  the  former  marvelled  greatly  what  could  be 
the  object   of   carrying  a   keg   of    liquor  up  this  wild  mountain, 
fyet   there   was    something    strange   and    incomprehensible   about 
the    unknown,    that     inspired     awe     and    checked     familiarity. 
On  entering  the  amphitheatre,  new  objects 
of  wonder  presented  themselves.     On   a   level 
spot    in    the    centre    was  a  company  of  odd- 
looking  personages  playing  at  ninepins.      They 
were  dressed  in  a  quaint,  outlandish  fashion; 
some    wore    short    doublets,    others    jerkins, 
with    long    knives    in    their   belts,    and   most 
of   them  had    enormous   breeches,   of    similar 
style     with     that     of     the     guide's.        Their 
visages,  too,  were   peculiar  ;    one  had  a  large 
beard,  broad   face,    and    small    piggish    eyes ; 
the     face     of     another     seemed     to     consist 

12 


"  They  maintained  the  gravest  faces. 


"  They  stared  at  him  with  such  fixed,  statue-like  gaze,  that 
his  heart  turned  within  him  and  his  knees  smote  together." 


1 


"  He  even  ventured  to  taste  the  beverage,  which  he  found 
had  much  of  the  flavour  of  excellent  Hollands. " 


"  Surely,"  thought  he,   "  I  have  not  slept  here  all  night. 
.   .   .  Oh  !    that  flagon  !    that  wicked  flagon  !   what  excuse 
shall  I  make  to  Dame  Van  Winkle  ?  " 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


entirely  of  nose,  and  was  surmounted 
by  a  white  sugar-loaf  hat,  set  off 
with  a  little  red  cock's  tail.  They 
all  had  beards,  or  various  shapes  and 
colours.  There  was  one  who  seemed 
to  be  the  commander.  He  was  a 
stout  old  gentleman,  with  a  weather- 
beaten  countenance  ;  he  wore  a  laced 
doublet,  broad  belt  and  hanger, 
high-crowned  hat  and  feather,  red 
stockmgs,  and  high-heeled  shoes, 
with  roses  in  them.  The  whole 
group  remmded  Rip  of  the  figures 

in    an    old    Flemish   painting,   in   the   parlour    of   Dominie  Van 
Shaick,   the  village   parson,   and  which  had  been  brought  over 
frojoo  Holland  at  the  time  of  the  settlement. 
!_What   seemed   particularly  odd   to   Rip   was,  that   these  folks 
were  evidently  amusing  themselves,  yet 
they  maintained  the  gravest  faces,  the 
most    mysterious    silence,    and    were, 
withal,  the  most  melancholy  party  of 
pleasure     he     had     ever      witnessed.  ^ 
Nothing    interrupted    the    stillness    of 
'the  scene  but  the  noise   of   the  balls, 
which,    whenever    they    were    rolled, 
echoed     along     the     mountains     like 
rumbling  peals  of  thunder. 

As  Rip  and  his  companion  approached 
them,  they  suddenly  desisted  from  their 
play,  and  stared  at  him  with  such  fixed, 

13 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

statue-like  gaze,  and  such  strange,  uncouth,  lack-lustre  counten- 
ances, that  his  heart  turned  within  him,  and  his  knees  smote 
together.  His  companion  now  emptied  the  contents  of  the  keg 
into  large  flagons,  and  made  signs  to  him  to  wait  upon  the 
company.  He  obeyed  with  fear  and  trembling  ;  they  quaffed 
the  liquor  in  profound  silence,  and  then  returned  to  their  game. 

By  degrees  Rip's  awe  and  apprehension  subsided.  He  even 
ventured,  when  no  eye  was  fixed  upon  him,  to  taste  the  beverage, 
which  he  found  had  much  of_the  flavour  of  excellent  Hollands. 
He  was^aturally  a  thirsty  soul,  and  was  soon  tempted  to  repeat 
the  draught.  One  taste  provoked  another  ;  and  he  reiterated  his 
visits  to  the  flagon  so  often  that  at  length  his  senses  were  over- 
powered, his  eyes  swam  in  his  head,  his  head  gradually  declined, 
and  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

On  waking,  he  found  himself  on  the  green  knoll  whence  he  had 
first  seen  the  old  man  of  the  glen.  He  rubbed  his  eyes — it  was  a 
bright  sunny  morning.  The  birds  were  hopping  and  twittering 
among  the  bushes,  and  the  eagle  was  wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting 
the  pure  mountain  breeze.  "  Surely,"  thought  Rip,  "  I  have  not 
slept  here  all  night."  He  recalled  the  occurrences  before  he  fell 
asleep.  The  strange  man  with  a  keg  of  liquor — the  mountain 
ravine — the  wild  retreat  among  the  rocks — the  woebegone  party 
at  ninepins — the  flagon — "  Oh  !  that  flagon  !  that  wicked 
flagon  !  "  thought  Rip, — "  what  excuse  shall  I  make  to  Dame  Van 
Winkle?" 

He  looked  round  for  his  gun,  but  in  place  of  the  clean,  well- 
oiled  fowling-piece,  he  found  an  old  firelock  lying  by  him,  the 
barrel  incrusted  with  rust,  the  lock  falling  off,  and  the  stock  worm- 
eaten.  He  now  suspected  that  the  grave  roysterers  of  the  mountains 
had  put  a  trick  upon  him,  and,  having  dosed  him  with  liquor, 

14 


They  all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of  surprise  and 
invariably  stroked  their  chins." 


'  A  troop  of  strange  children  ran  at  his  heels,  hooting  after 
hirn  and  pointing  at  his  grey  beard." 


The  dogs,  too,  not  one  of  whom  he  recognised  for  an  old 
acquaintance,  barked  at  him  as  he  passed." 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

had  robbed  him  of  his  gun.  Wolf,  too,  had  disappeared,  but  he 
might  have  strayed  away  after  a  squirrel  or  partridge.  He  whistled 
after  him,  and  shouted  his  name,  but  all  in  vain  ;  the  echoes 
repeated  his  whistle  and  shout,  but  no  dog  was  to  be  seen. 

He  determined  to  revisit  the  scene  of  the  last  evening's  gambol, 
and  if  he  met  with  any  of  the  party,  to  demand  his  dog  and  gun. 
As  he  rose  to  walk,  he  found  himself  stiff  in  the  joints,  and  wanting 
in  his  usual  activity.     "  These  mountam  beds  do  not  agree  with 
me,"  thought  Rip,  "  and  if  this  frolic  should  lay  me  up  with  a 
fit  of  the  rheumatism,  I  shall  have  a  blessed  time  with  Dame  Van 
Winkle."     With  some  difficulty  he  got  down  into  the  glen  :    he: 
found  the  gully  up  which  he  and  his  companion  had  ascended     , 
the  preceding  evening  ;  but  to  his  astonishment  a  mountain  stream!  Z^\M-^ 
was  now  foaming  down  it,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  and  filling 
the  glen  with  babbling  murmurs.     He,  however,  made  shift  to 
scramble  up  its  sides,  working  his  toilsome  way  through  thickets 
of  birch,  sassafras,  and  witch-hazel,  and  sometimes  tripped  up  or 
entangled  by  the  wild  grape-vines  that  twisted  their  coils  or  tendrils 
from  tree  to  tree,  and  spread  a  kind  of  network  in  his  path. 

At  length  he  reached  to  where  the  ravine  had  opened  throughV 
the  cliffs  to  the  amphitheatre  ;  but  no  traces  of  such  opening  1  ^ 
remained.  The /rocks  presented  a  high,  impenetrable  wall,  over 
which  the  torrent  came  tumbling  in  a  sheet  of  feathery  foam,  and 
fell  into  a  broad  deep  basin,  black  from  the  shadows  of  the  sur- 
rounding forest.  Here,  then,  poor  Rip  was  brought  to  a  stand.  He 
again  called  and  whistled  after  his  dog  ;  he  was  only  answered  by 
the  cawing  of  a  flock  of  idle  crows,  sporting  high  in  the  air  about  a 
dry  tree  that  overhung  a  sunny  precipice  ;  and  who,  secure  in  their 
elevation,  seemed  to  look  down  and  scoff  at  the  poor  man's  per- 
plexities.   What  was  to  be  done  ?   the  morning  was  passing  away, 

15 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

and  Rip  felt  famished  for  want  of  his  breakfast.  He  grieved  to 
give  up  his  dog  and  gun  ;  he  dreaded  to  meet  his  wife  ;  but  it 
would  not  do  to  starve  among  the  mountains.  He  shook  his  head, 
shouldered  the  rusty  firelock,  and,  with  a  heart  full  of  trouble  and 
anxiety,  turned  his  steps  homeward. 

As  he  approached  the  village  he  met  a  number  of  people,  but 
none  whom  he  knew,  which  somewhat  surprised  him,  for  he  had 
thought  himself  acquainted  with  every  one  in  the  country  round. 
Their  dress,  too,  was  of  a  different  fashion  from  that  to  which  he 
was  accustomed.     They  all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of 

(surprise,  and  whenever  they  cast  their  eyes  upon  him,  invariably 
stroked  their  chins.  The  constant  recurrence  of  this  gesture 
induced  Rip,  involuntarily,  to  do  the  same,  1  when,  to  his  astonish- 
ment, he  found  his  beard  had  grown  a  foot  long  ! 

He  had  now  entered  the  skirts  of  the  village.  A  troop  of  strange 
children  ran  at  his  heels,  hooting  after  him,  and  pointing  at  his 
grey  beard.  The  dogs,  too,  not  one  of  whom  he  recognised  for 
an  old  acquaintance,  barked  at  him  as  he  passed.  The  very 
village  was  altered.;  it  was  larger  and  more  populous.  There 
were  rows  of  houses  which  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  those 
which  had  been  his  familiar  haunts  had  disappeared.  Strange 
names  were  over  the  doors — strange  faces  at  the  windows — 
everything  was  strange.  His  mind  now  misgave  him  ;  he  began 
to  doubt  whether  both  he  and  the  world  around  him  were  not 
bewitched.  Surely  this  was  his  native  village,  which  he  had 
left  but  the  day  before.  There  stood  the  Kaatskill  Mountains 
— there  ran  the  silver  Hudson  at  a  distance — there  was  every  hill 
and  dale  precisely  as  it  had  always  been.  Rip  was  sorely  per- 
plexed. *'  That  flagon  last  night,"  thought  he,  "  has  addled  my 
poor  head  sadly  !  " 

16 


"  He  found  the  house  gone  to  decay.    .   .   .   '  My  very  dog, 
sighed  poor  Rip,  '  has  forgotten  me.'  " 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he  found  the  way  to  his  own 
house,  which  he  approached  with  silent  awe,  expecting  every 
moment  to  hear  the  shrill  voice  of  Dame  Van  Winkle.  /  He  found 
the  house  gone  to  decay — the  roof  had  fallen  in,  the  windows 
shattered,  and  the  doors  off  the  hinges.  A  half -starved  dog  that 
looked  like  Wolf  was  skulking  about  it.  Rip  called  him  by  name, 
but  the  cur  snarled,  showed  his  teeth,  and  passed  on.  This  was 
an  unkind  cut  indeed.  "  My  very  dog,"  sighed  poor  Rip,  *'  has 
forgotten,  me  !  " 

He  entered  the  house,  which,  to  tell  the  truth.  Dame  Van  Winkle 
had  always  kept  in  neat  order.  It  was  empty,  forlorn,  and  appa- 
rently abandoned.  This  desolateness  overcame  all  his  connubial  fears 
— he  called  loudly  for  his  wife  and  children — the  lonely  chambers 
rang  for  a  moment  with  his  voice,  and  then  all  again  was  silence. 

He  now  hurried  forth,  and  hastened  to  his  old  resort,  the  village 
inn — but  it  too  was  gone.  A  large  rickety  wooden  building  stood 
in  its  place,  with  great  gaping  windows,  some  of  them  broken 
and  mended  with  old  hats  and  petticoats,  and  over  the  door  was 
painted,  "  The  JJnion  Hotel,  by  Jonathan  Doolittle."  Instead 
of  the  great  tree  that  used  to  shelter  the  quiet  little  Dutch  inn  of 
yore,  there  now  was  reared  a  tall,  naked  pole,  with  something  on 
the  top  that  looked  like  a  red  nightcap,  and  from  it  was  fluttering 
a  flag,  on  which  was  a  singular  assemblage  of  stars  and  stripes ; 
— all  this  was  strange  and  incomprehensible./^ He  recognised  on 
the  sign,  however,  the  ruby  face  of  King  George,  under  which 
he  had  smoked  so  many  a  peaceful  pipe  ;  but  even  this  was  singu- 
larly metamorphosed.  The  red  coat  was  changed  for  one  of  blue 
and  buff,  a  sword  was  held  in  the  hand  instead  of  a  sceptre,  the 
head  was  decorated  with  a  cocked  hat,  and  underneath  was  painted 
in  large  characters,  "General  WASHINGTON."  ' 

17 


RIP  VAN   WINKLE 

There  was,  as  usual,  a  crowd  of  folk  about  the  door,  but  none 
that  Rip  recollected.     The  veiy__character  of  the  people  seemed 
.    changed.     There  was  a  busy,  bustling,   disputatious  tone  about 
it,   instead  of  the  accustomed  phlegm  and  drowsy  tranquillity.) 
He  looked  in  vain  for  the  sage  Nicholas  Vedder,  with  his  broad 
face,  double  chin,  and  fair  long  pipe,  uttering  clouds  of  tobacco- 
smoke  instead  of  idle  speeches  ;  or  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster, 
'doling  forth  the  contents  of  an  ancient  newspaper.     In  place  of 
these,  a  lean,  bilious-looking  fellow,  with  his  pockets  full  of  hand- 
bills, was  haranguing  vehemently  about  rights  of  citizens — elections 
— members  of  congress — liberty — Bunker's  Hill — heroes  of  seventy- 
six — and  other  words,  which  were  a  perfect  Babylonish  jargon  to 
•the  bewildered  Van  Winkle. 

The  appearance  of  Rip,  with  his  long,  grizzled  beard,  his  rusty 
fowling-piece,  his  uncouth  dress,  and  an  army  of  women  and 
children  at  his  heels,  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  thef  tavern 
politicians.'  They  crowded  round  him,  eyeing  him  from  head  to 
foot  with  great  curiosity.  The  orator  bustled  up  to  him,  and, 
drawing  him  partly  aside,  inquired  "  On  which  side  he  voted  ?  " 
Rip  stared  in  vacant  stupidity.  Another  short  but  busy  little  fellow 
pulled  him  by  the  arm,  and,  rising  on  tiptoe,  inquired  in  his  ear, 
Whether  he  was  Federal  or  Democrat  ?  "  Rip  was  equally 
at  a  loss  to  comprehend  the  question  ;  when  a  knowing,  self- 
important  old  gentleman,  in  a  sharp  cocked  hat,  made  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  putting  them  to  the  right  and  left  with  his 
elbows  as  he  passed,  and  planting  himself  before  Van  Winkle, 
with  one  arm  akimbo,  the  other  resting  on  his  cane,  his  keen  eyes 
and  sharp  hat  penetrating,  as  it  were,  into  his  very  soul,  demanded 
in  an  austere  tone,  "  What  brought  him  to  the  election  with  a 
gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  mob  at  his  heels  ;  and  whether  he  meant 
18 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

to  breed  a  riot  in  the  village  ?  "  "  Alas  !  gentlemen,"  cried  Rip, 
somewhat  dismayed,  "  I  am  a  poor  quiet  man,  a  native  of  the 
place,  and  a  loyal  subject  of  the  king,  God  bless  him  !  " 

Here  a  general  shout  burst  from  the  bystanders — "  A  tory  1 
a  tory  !  a  spy  !  a  refugee  !  hustle  him  !  away  with  him  !  "  It 
was  with  great  difficulty  that  the  self-important  man  in  the  cocked 
hat  restored  order  ;  and,  havmg  assumed  a  tenfold  austerity  of 
brow,  demanded  agam  of  the  unknown  culprit,  what  he  came  there 
for,  and  whom  he  was  seekmg  ?  The  poor  man  humbly  assured 
him  that  he  meant  no  harm,  but  merely  came  there  in  search  of 
some  of  his  neighbours,  who  used  to  keep  about  the  tavern. 

"  Well — who  are  they  ? — name  them." 

Rip  bethought  himself  a  moment,  and  inquired :  "  Where's 
Nicholas  Vedder  ?  " 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  little  while,  when  an  old  man  replied, 
in  a  thin,  piping  voice,  "  Nicholas  Vedder  !  why,  he  is  dead  and 
gone  these  eighteen  years !  There  was  a  wooden  tombstone 
in  the  churchyard  that  used  to  tell  all  about  him,  but  that's  rotten 
and  gone  too."^-     '- '^  7^^--^  /^^  " 

"  Where's  Brom  Dutcher  ?  " 

**  Oh,  he  went  off  to  the  army  in  the  beginning  of  the  war ; 
some  say  he  was  killed  at  the  storming  of  Stony  Point — others 
say  he  was  drowned  in  a  squall  at  the  foot  of  Antony's  Nose.  I 
don't  know — he  never  came  back  again." 

"  Where's  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster  ?  "  \ 

"  He  went  off  to  the  wars  too,  was  a  great  militia  general,  and  is' 
now  m  congress." 

Rip's  heart  died  away  at  hearing  of  these  sad  changes  in  his 
home  and  friends,  and  finding  himself  thus  alone  in  the  worldj 
Every  answer  puzzled  him  too,  by  treating  of  such  enormous  lapses 

19 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

of  time,  and  of  matters  which  he  could  not  understand  :  war — 
congress — Stony  Point ; — he  had  no  courage  to  ask  after  any  more 
friends,  but  cried  out  in  despair :  "  Does  nobody  here  know  Rip 
Van  Winkle?" 

*'  Oh,  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  "  exclaimed  two  or  three,  "  oh,  to  be 
sure  !   that's  Rip  Van  Winkle  yonder,  leaning  against  the  tree." 

Rip  looked,  and  beheld  a  precise  counterpart  of  himself,  as  he 
went  up  the  mountain  ;  apparently  as  lazy,  and  certainly  as  ragged. 
The  poor  fellow  was  now  completely  confounded.  He  doubted 
his  own  identity,  and  whether  he  was  himself  or  another  man. 
In  the  midst  of  his  bewilderment,  the  man  in  the  cocked  hat 
demanded  who  he  was,  and  what  was  his  name. 

"God  knows!"  exclaimed  he,  at  his  wit's  end;  "I'm  not 
myself — I'm  somebody  else — that's  me  yonder — no — that's  some- 
body else  got  into  my  shoes — I  was  myself  last  night,  but  I  fell 
asleep  on  the  mountain,  and  they've  changed  my  gun,  and  every- 
thing's changed,  and  I  can't  tell  what's  my  name,  or  who  I  am !  " 

The  bystanders  began  now  to  look  at  each  other,  nod,  wink 
significantly,  and  tap  their  fingers  against  their  foreheads.  There 
was  a  whisper,  also,  about  securing  the  gun,  and  keeping  the  old 
fellow  from  doing  mischief,  at  the  very  suggestion  of  which  the 
self-important  man  in  the  cocked  hat  retired  with  some  precipi- 
tation. At  this  critical  moment  a  fresh,  comely  woman  pressed 
through  the  throng  to  get  a  peep  at  the  grey-bearded  man.  She 
had  a  chubby  child  in  her  arms,  which,  frightened  at  his  looks, 
began  to  cry.  "  Hush,  Rip,"  cried  she,  "  hush,  you  little  fool  ; 
the  old  man  won't  hurt  you."  The  name  of  the  child,  the  air 
of  the  mother,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  all  awakened  a  train  of  recol- 
lections in  his  mind.  "  What  is  your  name,  my  good  woman?  ' 
asked  he. 
20 


Rip's  daughter  and  grandchild. 


Peter    was  the  most  ancient  inhabitant  of  the  village  (p.  24). 


21 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

*'  Judith  Gardenier." 

"  And  your  father's  name  ?  " 

'*  Ah,  poor  man,  Rip  Van  Winkle  was  his  name,  but  it's  twenty 
years  since  he  went  away  from  home  with  his  gun,  and  never 
has  been  heard  of  since, — his  dog  came  home  without  him ;  but 
whether  he  shot  himself,  or  was  carried  away  by  the  Indians, 
nobody  can  tell.     I  was  then  but  a  little  girl." 

Rip  had  but  one  question  more  to  ask  ;  but  he  put  it  with  a 
faltering  voice  : 

"  Where's  your  mother  ?  " 

'*  Oh,  she  too  had  died  but  a  short  time  since  ;   she  broke  a  blood  ~^ 
vessel  in  a  fit  of  passion  at  a  New-England  pedler."  /^ 

There  was  a  drop  of  comfort,  at  least,  in  this  intelligence.  The 
honest  man  could  contain  himself  no  longer.  He  caught  his 
daughter  and  her  child  in  his  arms.  "  I  am  your  father !  "  cried 
he — "  Young  Rip  Van  Winkle  once — old  Rip  Van  Winkle  now  ! 
— Does  nobody  know  poor  Rip  Van  Winkle  ?  " 

All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman,  tottering  out  from  among 
the  crowd,  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and  peering  under  it  in  his 
face  for  a  moment,  exclaimed :  **  Sure  enough  !  it  is  Rip  Van 
Winkle — it  is  himself !  Welcome  home  again,  old  neighbour. 
Why,  where  have  you  been  these  twenty  long  years  ?  " 

Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole  twenty  years  had  seemed/ 
to  him  as  but   one  night.     The   neighbours   stared  when  they 
heard  it ;    some  were  seen  to  wink  at  each  other,  and  put  their 
tongues  in  their  cheeks  ;  and  the  self-important  man  in  the  cocked^ 
hat,  who,  when  the  alarm  was  over,  had  returned  to  the  field,  \ 
screwed  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  shook  his  head — upon  1 
which  there  was  a  general  shaking  of  the  head  throughout  the 
assemblage. 

c  23 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

It  was  determined,  however,  to  take  the  opinion  of  old  Peter 
Vanderdonk,  who  was  seen  slowly  advancing  up  the  road.  He 
was  a  descendant  of  the  historian  of  that  name,  who  wrote  one  of 
the  earliest  accounts  of  the  province.  Peter  was  the  most  ancient 
inhabitant  of  the  village,  and  well  versed  in  all  the  wonderful 
events  and  traditions  of  the  neighbourhood.  He  recollected  Rip 
at  once,  and  corroborated  his  story  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner. 
He  assured  the  company  that  it  was  a  fact,  handed  down  from  his 
ancestor  the  historian,  that  the  Kaatskill  mountains  had  always 
been  haunted  by  strange  beings.  That  it  was  affirmed  that  the 
great  Hendrick  Hudson,  the  first  discoverer  of  the  river  and 
country,  kept  a  kind  of  vigil  there  every  twenty  years,  with  his 
crew  i^fjtlie-HalLjiiQQn ;  being  permitted  in  this  way  to  revisit 
the  scenes  of  his  enterprise,  and  keep  a  guardian  eye  upon  the 
river  and  the  great  city  called  by  his  name.  That  his  father  had 
once  seen  them  in  their  old  Dutch  dresses  playing  at  ninepins 
in  a  hollow  of  the  mountain  ;  and  that  he  himself  had  heard,  one 
summer  afternoon,  the  sound  of  their  balls,  like  distant  peals  of 
thunder. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  company  broke  up  and  returned 
to  the  more  important  concerns  of  the  election.  )  Rip's  daughter 
took  him  home  to  live  with  her ;  she  had  a  snug,  well-furnished 
house,  and  a  stout,  cheery  farmer  for  a  husband,  whom  Rip  re- 
collected for  one  of  the  urchins  that  used  to  climb  upon  his  back. 
As  to  Rip's  son  and  heir,  who  was  the  ditto  of  himself,  seen  leaning 
against  the  tree,  he  was  employed  to  work  on  the  farm  ;  but 
evinced  an  hereditary  disposition  to  attend  to  anything  else  but  his 
business. 

Rip  now  resumed  his  old  walks  and  habits  ;  he  soon  found 
many  of  his  former  cronies,  though  all  rather  the  worse  for 
24 


He  preferred  making  friends  among  the  rising  generation, 
with  whom  he  soon  grew  into  great  favour." 


Ihe  Kaahkill  mountains  had  always  been  haunted  by  strange  beings. 


25 


The  Kaatsberg  or  Catskiil  mountains  have  always  been  a 
region  full  of  fable." 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

the    wear   and   tear    of    time ;     and   preferred    making    friends 
among    the    rising   generation,   with   whom   he  soon  grew   into  ' 
great  favour. 

Having  nothing  to  do  at  home,  and  being  arrived  at  that  happyi 
age  when  a  man  can  be  idle  with  impunity,  he  took  his  place  once 
more  on  the  bench  at  the  inn-door,  and  was  reverenced  as  one  of 
the  patriarchs  of  the  village,  and  a  (chronicle  of  the  old  times  ^ 
"  before  the  war." )  It  was  some  time  before  he  could  get  into  the 
regular  track  of  gossip,  or  could  be  made  to  comprehend  the  strange 
events  that  had  taken  place  during  his  torpor.  How  that  there 
had  been  a  revolutionary  war, — that  the  country  had  thrown  off 
theljoke)  of  old  England, — and  that,  mstead  of  being  a  subject  of 
his  Majesty  George  the  Third,  he  was  now  a  free  citizen  of  the 
United  States.  Rip^  in  fact,  was  no  politician ;  the  changes  of 
states  and  empires  made  but  little  impression  on  him ;  but  there 
was  one  species  of  despotism  under  which  he  had  long  groaned, 
and  that  was— ;;petticoat  government.  Happily  that  was  at  an  end  ; 
he  had  got  his  neck  out  of  the(yokebf  matrimony,  and  could  go 
in  and  out  whenever  he  pleased,  without  dreading  the  tyranny 
of  Dame  Van  Winkle.  Whenever  her  name  was  mentioned, 
however,  he  shook  his  head,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  cast  up 
his  eyes  ;  which  might  pass  either  for  an  expression  of  resignation 
to  his  fate,  or  joy  at  his  deliverance.  ^^ 

He  used  to  tell  his  story  to  every  stranger  that  arrived  at  Mr. 
Doolittle's  hotel.  He  was  observed,  at  first,  to  vary  on  some  points 
every  time  he  told  it,  which  was,  doubtless,  owing  to  his  having 
so  recently  awaked.  It  at  last  settled  down  precisely  to  the  tale 
I  have  related,  and  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  the  neighbour- 
hood but  knew  it  by  heart.  Some  always  pretended  to  doubt 
the  reality  of  it,  and  insisted  that  Rip  had  been  out  of  his  head, 

27 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


^and  that  this  was  one  point 
on  which  he  always  remained 
flighty.  The  old  Dutch 
inhabitants,  however,  almost 
universally  gave  it  full  credit. 
Even  to  this  day  they  never 
hear  a  thunder-storm  of  a 
summer  afternoon  about  the 
Kaatskill,      but       they      say 

Hendrick  Hudson  and  his  crew  are  at  their  game  of  ninepins ; 
and  it  is  a  common  wish  of  all  hen-pecked  husbands  in  the 
neighbourhood,  when  life  hangs  heavy  on  their  hands,  that 
they  might  have  a  quieting  draught  out  of  Rip  Van  Winkle's 
flagon.  -^jiM^ 


28 


They  were  ruled  by  an  old  squaw  spirit. 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


Very  subject  to  marvellous  events  and  appearances. 


30 


NOTE 

The  foregoing  tale,  one  would  suspect,  had  been  suggested  to 
Mr.  Knickerbocker  by  a  little  German  superstition  about  the 
Emperor  Frederick  der  Rothbart,  and  the  Kypphauser  mountain ; 
the  subjoined  note,  however,  which  he  had  appended  to  the  tale, 
shows  that  it  is  an  absolute  fact,  narrated  with  his  usual  fidelity. 

**  The  story  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  may  seem  incredible  to  many, 
but  nevertheless  I  give  it  my  full  belief,  for  I  know  the  vicinity  of 
our  old  Dutch  settlements  to  have  been  very  subject  to  marvellous 
events  and  appearances.  Indeed,  I  have  heard  many  stranger 
stories  than  this,  in  the  villages  along  the  Hudson,  all  of  which 
were  too  well  authenticated  to  admit  of  a  doubt.  I  have  even 
talked  with  Rip  Van  Winkle  myself,  who,  when  last  I  saw  him, 
was  a  very  venerable  old  man,  and  so  perfectly  rational  and 
consistent  on  every  other  point,  that  I  think  no  conscientious 
person  could  refuse  to  take  this  into  the  bargain ; '  nay,  I  have  seen 
a  certificate  on  the  subject  taken  before  a  country  justice  and 
signed  with  a  cross,  in  the  justice's  own  handwriting.  The  story, 
therefore,  is  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt.  ! 

"D.  K." 


31 


POSTSCRIPT 

The  following  are  travelling  notes  from  a  memorandum-book 
of  Mr.  Knickerbocker. 

The  Kaatsberg  or  Catskill  mountains  have  always  been  a  region 
full  of  fable.  The  Indians  considered  them  the  abode  of  spirits, 
who  influenced  the  weather,  spreading  sunshine  or  clouds  over  the 
landscape,  and  sending  good  or  bad  hunting  seasons.  They  were 
ruled  by  an  old  squaw  spirit,  said  to  be  their  mother.  She  dwelt 
nn  the  h'rhpst  peak  of  the  Catskills,  and  had  charge  of  the  doors 
of  day  and  night  to  open  and  shut  them  at  the  proper  hour.  She 
hung  up  the  new  moons  in  the  skies,  and  cut  up  the  old  ones  into 
stars.  In  times  of  drought,  if  properly  propitiated,  she  would 
spin  light  summer  clouds  out  of  cobwebs  and  morning  dew,  and 
send  them  off  from  the  crest  of  the  mountain,  flake  after  flake, 
like  flakes  of  carded  cotton,  to  float  in  the  air,  until,  dissolved  by 
the  heat  of  the  sun,  they  would  fall  in  gentle  showers,  causing  the 
grass  to  spring,  the  fruits  to  ripen,  and  the  corn  to  grow  an  inch 
an  hour.  If  displeased,  however,  she  would  brew  up  clouds 
black  as  ink,  sitting  in  the  midst  of  them  like  a  bottle-bellied  spider 
in  the  midst  of  its  web  ;  and  when  these  clouds  broke,  woe  betide 
the  valleys  ! 

In  old  times,  say  the  Indian  traditions,  there  was  a  kind  of  Manitou 
or  Spirit,  who  kept  about  the  wildest  recesses  of  the  Catskill  moun- 
tains, and  took  a  mischievous  pleasure  in  wreaking  all  kinds  of  evils 
and  vexations  upon  the  red  men.  Sometimes  he  would  assume 
the  form  of  a  bear,  a  panther,  or  a  deer,  lead  the  bewildered  hunter 
32 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


When  these  clouds  broke,  woe  betide  the  valleys ! 


33 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 


a  weary  chase  through  tangled  forests  and  among  ragged  rocks, 
and  then  spring  off  with  a  loud  ho  !    ho'!    leaving  him  aghast  on 
the  brink  of  a  beetling  precipice  or  raging  torrent. 
The  favourite  abode  of  this  Manitou  is  still  shown.     It  is  a  great 

35 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

rock  or  cliff  on  the  loneliest  part  of  the  mountains,  and,  from  the 
flowering  vines  which  clamber  about  it,  and  the  wild  flowers 
which  abound  in  its  neighbourhood,  is  known  by  the  name  of  the 
(  Garden  Rock,  Near  the  foot  of  it  is  a  small  lake,  the  haunt  of  the 
solitary  bittern,  with  water-snakes  basking  in  the  sun  on  the 
leaves  of  the  pond-lilies  which  lie  on  the  surface.  This  place  was 
held  in  great  awe  by  the  Indians,  insomuch  that  the  boldest 
hunter  would  not  pursue  his  game  within  its  precincts.  fOnce 
upon  a  time,  however,  a  hunter  who  had  lost  his  way  penetrated  \/ 
to  the  Garden  Rock,  where  he  beheld  a  number  of  gourds  placed 
in  the  crotches  of  trees.  One  of  these  he  seized  and  made  off 
with  it,  but  in  the  hurry  of  his  retreat  he  let  it  fall  among  the  rocks, 
when  a  great  stream  gushed  forth,  which  washed  him  away  and 
swept  him  down  precipices,  where  he  was  dashed  to  pieces,  and 
the  stream  made  its  way  to  the  Hudson,  and  continues  to  flow  to 
the  present  day,  being  the  identical  stream  known  by  the  name  of 
the  Kaaters-kill. 


36 


printed  in  great  britain  bv 

Richard  Clav  and  Sons,  Limited, 

brunswick  street,  stamford  street,  s.e. 

and  bungay,  suffolk. 


21 


NOVl 
2011/lfr- 

Ar    ._ 

SNov'i 


h 


Ll)  21-1. 


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